


Visitation

by saccarines (orphan_account)



Series: Commissions [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Conjugal Visit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/saccarines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, the apartment was fairly decent. Admittedly better than the places Bruce had discovered Jason crashing at over the few months before his current – and semi-permanent, judging by the fact that almost eight months had gone by and Jason was still here – incarceration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kleine_aster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleine_aster/gifts).



> Lemme explain the rating;  
> I rate anything I write explicit if it in any way shape or form describes the sexual act, even just a little. Mature is for "and then they made love into the night" kind of descriptions. 
> 
> Now; Commission for Kleine over on tumblr (and here~).

All things considered, the apartment was fairly decent. Admittedly better than the places Bruce had discovered Jason crashing at over the few months before his current – and semi-permanent, judging by the fact that almost eight months had gone by and Jason was still _here_ – incarceration. Bruce trailed his finger along the counter of the small kitchen unit, impressed with the lack of dust his finger picked up. For an apartment kept by the Gotham prison system – notoriously subpar in their upkeep of…pretty much everything – it was surprisingly clean. He dropped his hand, glancing out the small window above the sink. While the apartment itself wasn’t under surveillance, there were cameras covering the doors and windows in case of an escape attempt, and the feeling of being watched didn’t sit well with Bruce, despite the irony there.

He left the kitchen, entering the small living room and moving one of the pillows off the couch to sink onto the cushion. He had two days left to spend here with Jason, but judging from how last night had gone, Bruce wasn’t sure he was all that welcome. Most of his arrival had gone like it usually did, given this wasn’t the first time Bruce had come to visit. They made awkward small talk until one of them (this time, Jason) gave in and pounced. A few hours later, when they were both sweaty and tired and sore, the civility broke and they’d gone back to fighting again. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Did Jason even want him there? Or was he just tolerating Bruce’s visits? He didn’t want-.

He didn’t want to continue visiting Jason if Jason didn’t actually want to see him.

That hurt too much, for both of them.

“Why the hell are you up so early?”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, keeping his expression smooth as he took in Jason’s unruly hair and shameless nudity – not that Jason had anything to be ashamed about. Prison, it seemed, had only done his physique favors, as strange and slightly stereotypical it was to think. “I’ve always been an early riser.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, rounding the couch to plop on the open space next to Bruce’s. “Could shelve the desire for a weekend. Might be nice to wake up next to you for once.”

Bruce glanced at him, “I had thought you wouldn’t want that, after last night.”

Jason shook his head, arching his back until it popped. “We’ve had worse, and you’ve never left then.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment. “I should go.”

Jason stilled, staring. “ _Go_?” He echoed bluntly. He waited for Bruce to reply. When none came, he narrowed his eyes. “You mean you don’t want to come back.”

Bruce threaded his fingers together, staring ahead blankly. “You don’t want me here.”

“When did I say _that_?” Jason snapped, scowling.

“Every time I come here, we spend more than half our time fighting.”

“We _fight_ , Bruce. You’re an ass and I’ve got a temper.” Jason moved, facing the older man. “That doesn’t mean I want you to _go_.”

Bruce turned his head, “You have no obligation to me, Jason. You don’t have to put up a front.”

Jason was silent for another moment before he moved. He grabbed Bruce’s shoulders, flinging a knee over his legs to straddle the bigger man. He gripped Bruce’s hair, yanking his face up so their eyes could meet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Bruce furrowed his brow, mouth falling open to answer.

“No,” Jason scowled. “I’m not _done_. When have you _ever_ known me as someone who tolerates something I don’t like? Why the fuck am I here in the first place, _Bruce_? I don’t tolerate shit on the streets. What makes you think you get special treatment?”

Bruce was speechless at that. He didn’t have a good – or any, really – answer. “I-”

“You’re a damned idiot,” Jason snapped. He pulled on Bruce’s hair, smashing their lips together. When Bruce didn’t yield, Jason sunk his teeth into Bruce’s bottom lip, eliciting an angry growl from the bigger man. He pulled away, dropping his hands from Bruce’s hair to squeeze his shoulders harshly. “I don’t _tolerate_ you. I get pissed at you because you’re an ass, and I don’t agree with any of the non-violent bullshit you preach at me, but I _love_ you. Dumbass.”

Bruce wasn’t given the chance to comment on Jason’s miniature speech. Jason kissed him again, softer this time, running his hands down Bruce’s chest to settle over his pectorals. He pressed closer to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past Bruce’s lips. Bruce settled his hands on Jason’s hipbones, pulling him closer. Later, he would wonder how it became so easy for his brain to wipe clean once Jason kissed him, and worry about what that might say about him, but for now he craved it as he always did. “Jason-”

“We can talk about it later,” Jason muttered.

Bruce exhaled slowly, swallowing as Jason’s fingers reached down to seek out his growing erection. He slid even closer to Bruce, moving to his knees as he continued to stroke the man to full hardness.

“Jason-”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Jason’s tone was still low, though more frustrated than before. “I’m ready.”

The image of Jason lying in bed, working himself open even after their fight, brought a pang of arousal to Bruce’s gut and a twitch to his cock. One of his favorite things was to watch Jason finger himself. He was sorry he’d missed it.

Bruce groaned as Jason sunk down on him, shifting his hips until he was able to sit flush in Bruce’s lap. He rocked down once, languidly, and settled against Bruce’s chest. “Fuckin’ love you in me.”

“Language,” Bruce chided weakly.

“Didn’t care about that last night,” Jason rocked again, a wild grin stretching across his face. “You _liked_ it.”

It was, unfortunately, another favorite thing of Bruce’s. He may not condone excessive cursing, but Jason made it almost charming, and certainly very… _appealing_ when he wanted it to be. Bruce tightened his hold on Jason’s waist, controlling the next movement. “I may have.” He paused. “We’ll talk after?”

Jason looked a breath away from rolling his eyes. “Yeah. We’ll talk.”

Bruce nodded, stealing a kiss before wrapping his fingers around Jason’s cock. “Does that classify this as make-up sex, then?”

Jason barked a laugh, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s neck. “Yeah, B, I think it does.”


End file.
